Victor Morales - Personal Logs

[Delithor]

0:00 •|၊|။||||။၊|။|||။|||။|||||||။||။|||။|||။|||။|||။• -2:15 [▶ Play] [❚❚ Pause] Victor Morales, Gallic Freelancer, IDF Subject: Personal Log 2 Transcript: Salut, c’est encore moi, Victor. It’s been just a day since my first log, and—how do I say this?—what a journée folle. This morning, after hours of lugging cargo between Picardy and Languedoc, I finally scraped together 10,000 credits. Pas mal, non? For a rookie freelancer, I’d say that’s decent. Still, mon dieu, those lanes can be so lonely. Static on the comms, the same endless stars, and the occasional grumble from the engine to keep me company. But hey, at least the credits are adding up. Now here’s where it gets incroyable. I was sitting at a small café on New Paris—just about to enjoy a croissant, mind you—when my datapad buzzed. A message from a law firm on Planet Marne. My first thought? "Bah, encore du spam." But something about it felt... different. So, I followed up. And voilà! Turns out, I had a distant uncle, Lucien Morales, who recently passed away. I never met him, but apparently, he left me 1.2 million credits and—a ship. Un vaisseau! I nearly spilled my coffee. The credits landed in my account immediately, but the ship? It’s in storage on Marne. I haven’t even seen it yet, and honestly, with how green I still am, I wouldn’t dare fly it right now. Its huge by the sound of it! So, it stays parked in a cozy little hangar until I’m ready. But the story doesn’t end there. Ever since I was a child, I’ve dreamed of owning a **Taureau**. Sleek, reliable, a little... robuste, but très charmant. So, with some of that inheritance burning a hole in my pocket, I went for it. Peut-être que j’ai été un peu impulsif—maybe I rushed it—but I don’t regret it. Spent the rest of the day inspecting her systems, tweaking the loadout, and admiring how she glows under the hangar lights. C’est fou. Just yesterday, I was dreaming of life beyond New Paris, and today, here I am: 10,000 credits earned, an unexpected fortune, and my very own Taureau. Life is strange, isn’t it? I do wonder, though... Uncle Lucien, did he ever talk to my parents before, well... before they were gone? Was this his way of helping me, from afar? {long pause, deep breath} Tomorrow, I’ll be taking the Taureau on her first proper run. Maybe I’ll head for the Burgundy routes. For now, though, I need some rest. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow looks even busier. Allez, Victor, let’s see if I can stop this thing without breaking it this time—zut alors, not again! {clink clank, static}